


From Small Things...

by Shadowolf19



Series: I’m Not Half As Good At Anything As I Am When I’m Doing It Next To You (Earth 616 Series) [6]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkward Dates, Canon Compliant, Dating, Dorks in Love, Double Dating, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Introspection, M/M, Marvel 616 References, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-17 16:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowolf19/pseuds/Shadowolf19
Summary: Steve realizes he's been kind of a terrible boyfriend to everyone he's dated, and he'd like to change. He knows exactly who to ask for dating tips: Tony. Tony agrees to go on a practice date with him and give him some pointers based on what he knows about Steve, up to and including a kiss goodnight.





	1. La Règle Du Jeu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/gifts).



> Written for the 2018 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange challenge.
> 
> For my recipient: I really hope you like it! You're one of my favorite authors in the fandom and I was so awestruck when I saw that I was assigned to you.

His head literally buried deep down the hollow cavity of the suit he’s been trying to repair for the last couple of hours or so, every bit of his attention devoted to it, Tony doesn’t hear Steve as he makes his way into his lab, although it takes him only a few seconds to notice the intrusion and knowing at once it’s him, even before the super soldier can open his mouth.

“Everything alright?” he asks casually, knowing all too well that if that wasn’t the case Steve wouldn’t have entered the room as quietly as he just did, or held his tongue as he’s doing now.

“How did you know it was me?” Steve replies, although it’s merely an excuse to postpone the real question he’s come down here to ask him.

“Oh please, Steve, with all the time we spend together…” his voice trails off as he begins turning the wrench around, not such an easy task when you’re bent over and upside down.

“Can I… ask you a question?”

“Waiting for it…”

There’s another pause, longer this time, so much so that Tony’s focus shifts away from the man in his lab to revert to the calculations still ongoing in his own mind.

“Can you teach me how to date?” Steve eventually spits it out, his voice higher than usual, thus betraying the nervousness inside of him.

From his part, Tony is one hundred percent sure that he hasn’t heard him correctly, it just can’t be what he thought the other just asked. He frowns, and although he’d rather not have to do this, he pulls out of the armor and back on the table, grease on his hands and his face as he grabs what used to be a white towel to wipe some of it off his skin as much as he can before looking at Steve.

“Sorry, what did you just say? I don’t think I’ve heard you right…”

Steve sighs deeply, decisively not happy about to pronounce those words out loud for a second time, but nevertheless he repeats the line exactly the same way, as if it was something he had memorized by heart – and maybe he actually had.

In any other circumstance, Tony would have burst into a hearty laughter: the whole thing sounds ridiculous even just _thinking_ about it, not just because he and dating don’t exactly go along, but also because Steve and he have very different taste about people, not to mention the qualities they look for into a potential partner – the subject has come up a few times before, because although being a superhero sounds thrilling, there is indeed a lot of waiting around involved, with related boring conversations.

“Why are you asking _me_?” he inquires instead, trying to make the other see his point without actually _saying_ it, but all that Steve does is hunching his shoulders before replying, clearly wanting an answer sooner rather than later so he can move on and deal with the embarrassment that he’s now feeling.

“You’re the closest friend I’ve got…” Steve begins, and then before Tony can insert himself into that pause, he adds: “… who is also very popular with people.”

That is, admittedly, a good save, and when he looks at him, Tony can’t help but recognizing a certain urgency and (maybe) desperation into his friend’s eyes. Which is why, after throwing a quick glance at the clock on his desk, he decides that perhaps a distraction is just what he needs to help him figure out the tiny detail that has been escaping his calculations for the whole afternoon.

“Well, okay then, shall we say… 7 sharp? I just need a shower but it won’t take long.”

“Wait, what? You mean _today_?” Steve replies, meeting his eyes with a puzzled and alarmed look on his face which makes Tony smile earnestly.

“Yeah, today. If you don’t have plans already, of course.”

“I don’t, but…”

“Fantastic, me neither! And I could use some fresh air, so you’re on. I’ll see you down the lobby in an hour.” Steve has the expression of someone who has just been picked up by a twister and deposited in Oz land; he opens his mouth, trying to find something to object with, but before he can come up with anything Tony talks again: “On second thoughts, come to my room, let’s see what you’ve got. Don’t worry about flowers for now.”

“Flowers…?” Steve manages to mumble, but Tony is already out of the lab, leaving the other alone with his thoughts.

 ∞

It’s 6:50 when he hears a knock on the door, which prompts a shake of his head as he grabs his shirt and wears it, buttoning it almost all the way up and leaving the top two holes undone.

“First lesson: never, _ever_ be early, people might think you’re des—“ he starts off as he opens the door, but he stops immediately as his eyes fall on Steve, standing there in his _military outfit_ – the one from the Forties if you can believe it – an awkward smile on his face and a hand raised as to say hello. “What are you wearing?” Tony sighs, only now realizing just how _difficult_ the task is going to be. This is Steve Rogers, one of the thickest persons he’s ever known, which is only made worse by the fact that from time to time he still seems to somehow forget he’s living in the twenty-first century now, despite having been in this era for quite some time.

“My unif—“

“That was rhetorical, Rogers.” again Tony cuts him off, popping back in for just a second to grab his jacket before starting to walk towards the other’s room, nodding at him to follow. “Lesson number 2: military might have been in fashion back in the day, but now, not so much. Most people actually _hate it_. Especially those whom you might find interesting. Take it from me.”

Once they’re back in Steve’s room, Tony tells him without much hinting or half-words to undress, and ignoring Steve’s complain for privacy, he heads towards his wardrobe and opens its doors, inspecting carefully its content. To put it gently, it’s out of fashion. To tell the truth, the sight only is plain unbearable: most of his clothes are gym pants and t-shirts, and the few complete outfits he manages to spot seem to have been in this closet for the vast majority of the past two decades. Oh yeah, this is going to be much harder than anticipated. For a wild moment, he even entertains the idea of lending him some of _his_ clothes, before dismissing it with a grimace: the two of them are definitely not the same size, and most of all, the other man’s muscles would end up ripping the tight fit he likes for his own shirts in two.

“Alien invasion permitting, we’re going shopping tomorrow as well, don’t want to hear excuses.” he eventually says after he manages to combine the least of two evils between a top and a bottom, passing both items to Steve, who grabs them with a sigh and proceeds to wear them, muttering something beneath his breath that Tony can’t possibly understand.

 ∞

Sitting in front of each other at the restaurant some time later, Tony is making casual conversation, trying to get Steve to give something more substantial than simple, short answers, when the maître approaches their table, the wine list into her hands. Before Tony can stop him, Steve quickly stretches his hand to get it, prompting yet another sigh from the man in front of him, who shakes his head and waits just until the maître leaves to scold him.

“You _can’t_ do that, Steve.”

“Do _what_ , exactly?” the other replies, frowning from behind the carte, clearly not getting it.

“Going for the list like that, without hesitation. Do you assume your date necessarily likes your choice of wine? For all you know, they might not even _like_ it at all.”

“But isn’t the m—“

“Ah-ha, don’t even say that out loud. Like, _never_. Take all of your knowledge of gender stereotypes and throw it away, okay? I’m serious. The gender of the person in front of you doesn’t matter, you just can’t act like you’re the only one who can make decisions. You already have… a really defined body that give off that vibe, you don’t need your actions to match it too. You get what I mean?”

Steve stares at him silent for a couple of seconds, and the look in his eyes tells Tony that he probably _doesn’t_ , but he puts down the carte all the same and, after a moment of hesitation, he slides it towards the other.

“… You do know I’m not drinking alcohol anymore, don’t you, Steve?” he teases, managing to keep a straight face for just a second or two before bursting into a soft laughter, which makes Steve sigh in defeat, although he can spot the shadow of a smile upon his lips too.

“So what am I supposed to do? I thought you were pretending to be my date…”

“I _am_. Why, are you saying you couldn’t date an ex alcoholic?”

“What? That’s not what I meant…”

Of course Tony knows it, but the situation was too good not to take full advantage of; he winks at Steve, opening up in a kind grin as adding, just to be on the safe side: “Relax, Winghead, I was just kidding.”

 ∞

With their drink and food orders out of the way, Tony decides it’s time to test the level of the conversation game Steve would bring to the table while on a date, so he asks him to start talking about the first random thing that pops into his mind. The other takes a few moments to think it over – Tony stops himself from rolling his eyes as he can’t believe Steve actually doesn’t have a reply ready – but when the other eventually does, he wishes he had been more patient.

“Okay, so, I had meant to talk to you about something, Tony... and please, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve seen you hanging a lot around Namor recently, and I don’t think he’s a particularly good influence on you. I mean, he’s... unhinged to say the least, and so arrogant, like... you c—“

“Woah, okay, let me stop you right there,” Tony sighs, shaking his head and holding up his palm for good measure. “First of all, just because I can see you’re actually concerned, someone oughta keep an eye on him, and I see no other volunteers, so...” he shrugs in quite the self-explanatory way: _it’s always me having to take the unpopular decisions_. “Second, and most importantly, this is a date, remember? I know it’s hard to forget I’m Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, but _please_ , do try. You can’t be talking about work when you’re out with someone, you’re gonna bore them to death. And yes,” he hurries to add, already anticipating the question about to leave Steve’s lips, “it doesn’t matter if you’re dating another superhero, although I strongly suggest you don’t go down that route, definitely not advisable.”

“But you—“

“ _Exactly_ , Steve.” His gaze momentarily shifts down on his empty glass, caught in a sad reminiscence. “I’m your best friend, right? Don’t want you to replicate my same mistakes.”

A veil of silence falls on them, Steve struggling to find something meaningful to say and Tony finding himself wishing he could even just sniff some whiskey. Luckily for them, the waiter comes back with their drinks, and after their glasses are full, Tony is again in control of his feelings.

“So as I was saying,” he begins, as if he had just stopped talking a few seconds ago, “Your date is not gonna be that interested in your job, or your fitness routine for that matter. You need to tell them about _you_.”

“But I _am_ what I do!” Steve protests, and by his tone you can tell just how glad he is that they’ve overcome the bit of a slump they’d found themselves stuck into.

“Okay, I’ll go first then.” Tony sighs, defeated, taking a sip from his virgin Mary, “I’ve always liked engineering more than anything else because I felt I could control the outcome in the middle of life’s chaos, even as a kid. That’s why when things don’t make any sense – and in our line of work they often don’t – I go down to my lab and tinker.”

Steve is a little taken aback by this revelation, and looks at him with sincere eyes, the kind of stare which makes about anyone have little doubts about his sincerity. “I... had no idea that’s the reason why you spend so much time down there...”

Tony shrugs, taking another sip, quickly dismissing the fact as a big deal to avoid having to open up even more than he has already. “Yeah well, I also have a company to run _occasionally_ , plus to finance a couple of superhero teams who have the very annoying tendency of breaking things, so I need to make ends meet.”

There’s a brief pause during which Steve comes really short of pushing for more details, but reading into Tony’s eyes how reluctant his friend is to have this kind of conversation, he decides to bring the subject back to dating: “I don’t get it though, you are in a way talking about your job.”

“Yes, but I’m making it _personal_ , and that’s the trick, because it makes it _reliable_. Now it’s your turn, no excuses.”

Steve nods – mostly as a vote of self-confidence, hoping for the best – and takes a slow sip from his beer to take some time, thinking, before eventually shaking his head in defeat.

“I really can’t think of anything, what is wrong with me?”

“You’re just… out of practice, that’s all,” Tony offers supportively, before coming up with a prompt he hopes will do the trick: “Okay, why don’t you tell me why is so important to you to be a superhero. You can do that, right?”

There’s a sudden spark into Steve’s eyes that tells him yes, this is something he can most definitely do. Almost out of ideas, Tony sighs of relief as the other launches himself into a passionate account, lining more words one after the other than he’s done during the whole evening.

“Well, that’s easily said. I really have an obligation towards the people, to help them and protect them, whatever the cost. I don’t care much about politics, but I’d happily give up my own life for the greater good.”

_As if you didn’t do that already so many times before,_ Tony thinks with a hint of sadness, without saying it out loud; instead, he finds himself completely captured by the way Steve is now talking, totally different from just a few seconds ago, as if he was reciting the words of a prayer which gave him the strength to go on, no matter what sorts of problems might come his way. Matter of fact, he gets so deeply fascinated that he even forgets that he wanted to test Steve out by seeing how he’d react when confronted with a sudden change of circumstances. So when he lays his hand upon the other’s after a while, he himself is not quite sure whether he is doing it on purpose or because it just felt like the right thing to do.

Of course, Steve reacts in the only way he possibly can: he freezes up, and stops talking abruptly, right in the middle of a sentence, his eyes throwing not so subtle glances at their two hands joined together.

“Why did you stop?” Tony sighs, taking his hand away and looking at his companion, shaking his head in disapproval.

But Steve looks too shocked to even hear him, and asks a question of his own: “Why did you put your hand on mine?”

“Because it can happen if what you’re saying resonates with the person in front of you or it’s fascinating...” he replies, feeling like he’s actually having a chat with a ten-year old kid instead. Which is probably what Steve is, coming to think about it, when you consider the time during which he was a teenager and how the Second World War practically took away that from him and many others of his generation. In comparison, his despised years at boarding school look like a walk in the park _. Be patient_ , he reminds himself, _he’s trying his best._

“And was it?” Steve wonders, and yes, he genuinely wants to know.

“It was, but if you freeze like this, you’re gonna go back to zero.”

“Zero?”

Tony sighs again, although this time refrains from voicing his frustration out loud: “As in, on a scale from ten to zero. You see, before a first date, you start at the lowest grade, and by the end of it, your aim is to get as closer to ten as you can. I normally score... 9 on average.” He can’t help himself from sharing, he doesn’t even know why, exactly. It’s not like they’re having a competition - hell, the way things are they wouldn’t even be in the same _category_ \- and still, he felt like he _had to_ say it. Because Steve is always better than him at pretty much _everything_ \- he’s fully aware of this even if he would never say it out loud, especially not to him - so for once that their roles are reversed, the chance is too big to pass over. “You... I think should aim for 7 at least. You’re Captain America after all.”

Steve stays silent a bit, seemingly trying to absorb this scale that he had no idea existed until a minute ago. But it must somehow make sense to him because he eventually nods, much to Tony’s relief: “So, the story... how many points was it?”

“I’d say a solid 2.5, maybe even 3. Definitely can improve on it, but the sentiment was good. You should try and work more... details into it. Like, no classified information or anything of that sort, but the personal kind. Bucky or your mum, for example.” he hurries to add, as he could already read in the other’s glance some alarm bell (“ _I can’t possibly share government information!_ ”).

“Gotcha...” Steve replies, and then, quite surprisingly, lets a small chuckle go, looking apologetically at Tony: “I’m sorry, for a moment there I thought—“

“—I was referring to mission details, isn’t it?” he anticipates him, returning a giggle, “Yeah, I gathered that by the way your eyes seemed to double in size within a second.”

“Damn you know me so well…” Steve replies, a smile on his lips that you could call admiration, and that makes Tony hold his tongue for a few moments, as if he himself had never realized just how much _data_ he had been storing into his head for all these years.

“We’ve been at this for a while, Winghead, I’d be worried if I didn’t…” he replies instead, to mask his real feelings, although he’s not quite sure _why_. Steve would never do anything to hurt him, right? It’s _Steve_. Even when they fight, they always have each other’s back, no matter what. They always go back to one another.

“Guess you’re right…” the other man says, slowly as to take time to come up with something else, but as his eyes meet Tony’s, still smiling, he finds himself incapable of doing that, just because he doesn’t _need to_. They can have silences, it’s not awkward or a sign that things aren’t going well. If anything, it’s comforting. Here they are, on a fake date, laughing and talking and having a good time as if they were two regular friends living a regular life – something that Steve really misses at times, although he never says it out loud, not just because he doesn’t want people to take it as a weakness, but especially because it would scare him to have it in the open, a secret fantasy that cannot be transformed in reality.

“That’s often the case…” For his part, Tony is not someone to dwell on particular moments – he likes to live in the present _whilst_ worry about the future, his brain constantly running at high speed because stillness equals death to him (alas, the high intake of caffeine in his blood definitely doesn’t help – so although total silence is not in his repertoire, he settles for the next best thing: brevity. He looks at his companion, and for a brief, mad second he’s actually tempted to lean his hand over Steve’s again, _just to see what he does this time_ , he tells himself. Except that’s not just it. He’s not stupid, despite sometimes he really wishes he wasn’t so quick to catch on details. He can tell there’s a buzzing in the air now, and furthermore, he _knows_ Steve is aware of it too, although probably not on a conscious level. Was he to not say anything – and at this point he feels it’s really up to him, because the other seems to have lost himself behind some thought – the silence could go on and on god knows until when, never becoming an issue. Which, of course, is part of the problem itself. So he resolves to open his mouth again, but before he can, the waiter comes to their aid, bringing their food over. Tony lets a brief sigh of relief go as his eyes switch on to his hot dish.

They end up eating in silence, finishing their meal quite quickly – Tony realizes only halfway through that this might actually be the first food approaching his lips in more than twenty-four hours, although he doesn’t surprise him too much – and after their dishes get taken away, he casually leans his hand over Steve’s again who, quite predictably, immediately glances over what’s happening on the table. Only this time, Tony opts for a different strategy: he just ignores it.

“Let’s go back to you talking about the Avengers, shall we?” he says instead, looking intently at him until their eyes meet. “Your date is listening to you, they’re engrossed and take your hand. You _don’t_ freeze like you just did – _again_ – but smile and go on, okay?”

Steve nods, although his face tells that he’s not entirely sure he can keep his promise; nevertheless, after a few more seconds in which he reminds himself of what exactly he was saying, he begins talking again, and for a short while he seems to have found his pace. That is, until Tony decides to step up the game and nonchalantly starts rubbing his thumb against the back of the other’s hand. With what seems to be an enormous effort, Steve forces himself to not stop at this, although it’s clear just how _uncomfortable_ it’s making him, because slowly but surely he loses the red line of his thoughts, words coming out of his mouth without a logical concatenation. Tony decides to wait it out, painfully as it is, but when the other says something along the lines “I wouldn’t be a soldier if I wasn’t a soldier”, he knows he _has to_ intervene.

“Oookay pal, you’re starting to sound like _me_ now, time for a change.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re rambling. Ask me a question, come on.”

Steve blinks, puzzled, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times like if he was a fish. The point is, he just can’t _think properly_ when Tony is still caressing his hand: it makes him strangely uncomfortable, not necessarily in a bad way, it’s just damn impossible for him to divert his attention from what’s going on.

“Am I… supposed to ignore that?”

“Well, it’d be better for you to _acknowledge_ it, Cap…”

But if Tony thought that would be self-explanatory enough, he was wrong, because the other follows up with yet another question: “How do I even _do that_?”

“Just do the same thing! Jesus, Steve, it’s not rocket science, even for you!” he breaks out at last, although he wishes he hadn’t, because he really wants to help his friend out, Steve deserves to be happy and Tony knows for a fact he’d make an excellent partner, if given the chance to get to that stage.

But if nothing else, his outburst has the effect to shake Steve a bit, mostly latching onto his self-respect, because without any further solicitation he actually mirrors Tony’s move, his thumb tentatively caressing the other’s palm. It’s a sweet albeit awkward attempt which attenuates his outburst, so much so that he feels the need to say something: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out, patience is not my… strongest suit.”

“I know that, Shellhead…” Steve replies, for the first time in the whole evening opening up in a relaxed smile, immediately returned by the man sitting in front of him. For a couple of seconds it’s like time stops, neither of them moves or says anything, their hands still together, and Tony wonders if Steve is actually aware of this, if he has just plain forgotten about it or if he’s doing it on purpose to prove he’s able to, although he doesn’t think so, because that’s unlike him.

“Let’s just… keep this for the next time, okay? You seem quite… confused,” he says eventually, slowly slipping his hand off Steve’s, before he can realize what’s been going on and freaks out.

“I am, but I understand now why I barely ever make it to a second date…” the other giggles, and if he’s noticed Tony’s move, he doesn’t show it nor comments on it.

The conversation naturally switches to their usual topics – whether they should update the team’s rooster and with whom, who is Clint dating, how long until the X-Men bring another disaster to their doorstep – and for a while they forget they’re on a pretend-date, at least until the bill gets left on the table for anyone to grab. Tony doesn’t flinch, waiting to see what his dining partner will do, and despite stretching a hand to grab it, Steve actually stops halfway through to look at him, biting his lip as withdrawing his fingers.

“I… shouldn’t do that, right? Same rule as the wine?”

_Well, well, well, would you look at that…,_ Tony can’t help but giggling, slightly amused and decisively impressed, because he wasn’t expecting him to not fail.

“Who would have thought, Rogers? Maybe you’re not completely hopeless after all…” he nods, straightening on his chair as reaching out for his wallet in the back of his pants. “ _Never_ assume you’re the one paying, it sends the wrong vibe. _Always_ ask how they would like to do it. Usually you end up splitting the bill.”

“Okay, so… how much?”

But Tony shakes his hand, depositing his credit card on the small metal plate on top of the paper: “This is not a real date though, so _I’m paying_.”

 ∞

They end up taking a walk home – the cold November air has kept most people inside the warmth of their homes, which works out great if you’re a known person as it allows for a degree of anonymity which is rarely achieved – and although they exchange words every now and then, they remain silent for the most part, enjoying each other’s company. It’s only once they get to the outside of the Tower, and they’re about to get in, that Tony comes to a sudden halt and turns to face Steve.

“Okay, let’s do this here. Don’t wanna have to explain what we’re doing to anyone, it’d be time consuming and, quite frankly, a little embarrassing for you.”

Steve, who had really enjoyed the peaceful half an hour preceding this moment, arches a brow in the other’s direction, having no idea what any of that could possibly mean.

“Do… what here, exactly?”

“How do you conclude a date, Steve?” he answers, the tone of someone who’s explaining how addition works to a three year old. “Let’s say you’ve walked me home or whatever. You’ve enjoyed this person’s company and would like to see them again. Put this into action.”

For once his words seem to resonate immediately with Steve, who only spends a few seconds before coming up with a response, stepping slightly closer: “I… really enjoyed tonight and feel we have a lot in common. I can easily imagine us getting married an—“

“OH. MY. GOD.” Tony interrupts him abruptly, eyes doubled in size, his voice just a mere decibels away from being an actual scream. He can’t believe Steve _went there_. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you?! You can’t possibly be _serious_. How can you even just _think_ that that’s an acceptable thing to say after a first date, in the twenty-first century?”

“Woah, calm down, it’s not like I was actually _proposing_ , I was just saying, hypothetically…” rebukes Steve, quite taken aback by that strong reaction, his eyes wandering around without stopping on a specific object.

For his part, Tony is still negatively amazed by what his ears have just heard. Marriage. Like if that was something that people still valued nowadays, and not just a decision taken on the spur of a moment and regretted for years afterwards. _Boy we have work to do._

“You need to keep things simple, alright?” he then offers, taking a deep breath as to brace himself. “Just say that you had a nice time and you’d like to do it again. If you feel adventurous and think it could be the right move – although I have my doubts you can actually _read a room_ – you can lean in and give them a kiss, just like this…” and with that, he gives him a little smile before going for his cheek, pressing his lips against the freshly shaved skin and breathing in the other’s aftershave for a couple of seconds – there are notes of pines and acorns and for some reasons Tony thinks it’s very fitting for him – before pulling back and reprising talking as if nothing happened: “Okay? Then you smile and take your leave _without_ freaking them out with proposals and big words like ‘love’. Remember, it’s a first date, not your wedding vows.”

He looks at the other, trying to see if his words make sense to him, but Steve has stopped paying attention when Tony went for the kiss, not really hearing whatever he’s said afterwards. It was unexpected, he honestly didn’t think his friend would even _accept_ giving him dating advice, let alone offering to actually go out with him _and_ give him a kiss. Steve has no idea what to say or how to process any of this.

“Earth to Cap? Are you there?” Tony looks at him and moves his hand in front of his eyes, as if to awaken him from whatever spell he might have fallen under. “I know a kiss from Tony Stark is something out of this world, but c’mon, you’re overreacting now, it wasn’t even a _proper_ one.”

“I’m… fine, I just… remembered something.” Steve manages to articulate eventually, blinking away his stillness although still averting the other’s gaze. “You… You go ahead, I’m gonna walk a bit longer, I think I ate too much…”

It’s a poor excuse and they both know it, but luckily for him Tony can sense an overwhelming tiredness bestowing him, so he ends up nodding and patting his companion on his arm.

“Fair enough, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thanks for the evening, it was mostly… entertaining.”

“Yeah, sure…” the other mumbles, and Tony could have said just about anything at that point and getting the same exact reply.


	2. Metti, Una Sera A Cena

As Tony had more or less anticipated, an alien emergency is exactly what happens the following day, just as he was getting ready to push Steve into the elevator to go shopping, and the not too subtle smile of relief on the other’s face doesn’t go unnoticed either.

“This is just a rain check, Winghead,” he warns him as the suit already latches onto him, Steve running back to his quarters to get changed.

The mission – although of the diplomatic kind – ends up dragging on for almost ten days, in which they get stuck on the dark side of the moon in the company of Skrulls and Krees, definitely not the type of situation to spur a conversation about dating or relationships, even if they hadn’t had their hands full all the time trying to make the two races agree on a compromise. They’re actually so busy trying to prevent a cosmic war that they barely have time to exchange their usual banters in the morning or right before going to bed, and when they do talk, it’s to discuss strategy (and why exactly they got called in this mess in the first place).

It’s only a few days after they get back to Earth – and their bodies and minds are back to function normally – that the subject comes back into Tony’s mind, along with an idea of what their next step should be. So, once he works out the details, he heads to the gym where Steve is busy skipping the rope and, leaning against one of the punching bags, he half-smirks at him to catch his attention.

“Hey, you still interested in dating?” he asks, and the sudden question catches Steve so unprepared that he gets stuck midair in a jump, ending up stumbling on the floor, and Tony chuckles as lending him a helping hand.

“Wait, are you… asking me out?”

“What? No. I mean, I _am_ , but for like, your… research purposes.”

Slowly but surely, a light bulb switches on in Steve’s brain, and he nods, standing up: “Oh, right. Yes, sorry, I’d all forgot about that. I didn’t assume you’d still be up for it though.”

“Why not? I mean, last time was fun, even if just to see how adorably awkward you can get when it’s _you_ on the spot.” Tony jokes, mostly to hide the truth behind what he’s saying, which is that he had in fact actively enjoyed their fake date together.

“Ah-ha, you’re so hilarious, Tony, really…” Steve mocks him, but it’s crystal clear that he’s all too glad (and also a bit relieved) that the other is still interested, although he ignores exactly why.

“Yeah, I know,” he promptly replies, before letting him on his idea: “So, I thought the next step for you should be going on a double date.”

“… Sorry, what did you just say?” Steve can’t believe those words. How on Earth could Tony think that to be a good idea? He’s no expert obviously, but he’s quite positive their first attempt was a semi disaster from his part, so now the prospect of having to face not just one, but three people at once in a romantic setting, albeit fake, is nothing short of terrifying.

“Why are you so edgy?” Tony chuckles, patting his cheek as an encouraging gesture, or at least that’s what he tells himself, because he has no idea what just prompted him to do that. It doesn’t make any _sense_.

“Gee, Tony, I don’t know…. Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“Why would it?”

Steve can’t believe he has to explain this out loud, especially to _Tony Stark_.

“Well, I can barely remember all the stuff you told me last time, I don’t want to embarrass you or make a fool of myself…”

“Don’t worry about that, it’s with Jessica and Carol,” he reveals, “It’s not overstating it that they already know us at our worst, I seriously doubt they would flinch an eye at this…”

They wouldn’t, matter of fact, but Steve does, eyes wide open with shock and surprise as witnessing just how _little_ he seems to know about some of his teammates.

“Wait, what? Jessica and Carol? Are they, like, an ‘item’? When did _that_ happen?”

_He really just use the word ‘item’. I can’t believe this,_ he shakes his head to himself, making a mental note to buy him a twenty-first century book on romantic language – god knows how much Steve needs it.

“I swear, you can be so blind at times, Cap…” he says out loud, sighing in defeat before moving on: “We’re meeting them at the restaurant in two hours. Go have a shower,” he warns him for good measure, and he’s about to walk away when Steve stops him, putting a hand on his arm.

“C’mon, Tony, not _this_ again! Why do you never give me more time to get ready?”

“We’re _Avengers_ , dude. We don’t even know whether we’re actually gonna manage to get through a meal without being called away…” he offers, although the real answer would have been that giving him more warning also meant more overthinking from Steve’s part, a risk he is not willing to take.

The other sighs deeply, his hand falling along his side, leaving Tony free to go: “Alright…”

“Cool. Two hours, Rogers. Wear the clothes on your bed.”

He’s already out of the room when Steve’s voice reaches him from behind: “Clothes? What are you talking about?”

 ∞

“Okay, so, remember: relax, breathe, and try to have a good time, okay? This is not a test.” Tony says, standing in front of him and fixing the handkerchief in Steve’s jacket so that it looks right. They’re just outside the restaurant, slightly later than expected because Steve spent an awful long time combing his hair in what he called a “presentable way”, just another synonym for his impossibly perfectly parted military style. The moment Tony laid eyes on him, he reached out to it and without a single word of warning he messed it up with a swift movement of his hand, much to Steve’s horror, so that it now looks like someone who didn’t have time to dry his hair after coming out of the shower – exactly the look Tony was going for.

“Right...” echoes Steve, his tone saying the exact opposite of what the word means.

_This is gonna be fun_ , Tony thinks, barely holding a smirk from appearing on his face as, without further ado, he leans one hand on Steve’s back to let him step inside first, following him immediately after and asking the approaching waiter to show them the Danvers table.

“Hey, but this... this is a sushi restaurant...” Steve whispers to him as they make their way between the two row of tables, a slight note of panic in his voice.

“Duh, yeah, great deductive powers, Cap, where did you notice it from? Was it the name, or the decor, or the ginger smell...” he replies, sarcastically, not quite sure where the other is going with this, lifting up a hand as spotting the two women smiling in their direction.

“I... uh, I’m not good with chopsticks...” Steve leans in to whisper, and Tony wants to disappear right there and materialize somewhere far away; but instead his grin widens as they reach the table, and he bows to kiss Carol’s cheeks and shake Jessica’s hand.

“You guys are late.” Danvers remarks in a jokingly way, immediately followed by Drew’s comment (“If this was a real date someone could think it’s because you were having hot, pre-dinner sex”) which, hadn’t it sounded so impromptu, one would have thought it had been rehearsed.

“Yeah, nothing further from that...” Tony giggles, feeling his companion already freezing right next to him, “Steve here was trying to win a ferocious fight against his boring haircut.”

“Why, Mr. Rogers, don’t you look dazing in those clothes...” Jessica notices, and Tony has never seen Steve blushing before, but that’s exactly the effect that those words have on him now.

“Yeah, Steve, you look _amazing,_ no offense but I never thought you had it in you...”

Both women’s eyes set on him for a response, but Steve has absolutely no idea what to reply, the only recurring thought in his head being, _this was such a bad idea_.

“... He had help.” Tony comes to his rescue while he finally takes a seat, giving the brief shake of head to Carol to divert further questions on the topic, hoping that the movement would prompt his partner to follow his lead. Which, although in an extremely robotic way, it does, Steve nodding to nobody in particular as sitting down next to him (Tony had made sure they agreed on the seating plan beforehand to avoid further elements of disturbance to Steve’s ability to get through the dinner - read: foot touching foot, rubbing of each other’s hands and so on).

“So, do you guys believe we’re really gonna manage to pull this off?”

It’s a general question Jessica asks, an _easy_ one, hopefully to get Steve involved in a conversation that so far has been happening without him, but even if words do come out of his mouth, they also make it clear that he, for one, is still lost behind some thought in his own head.

“Pull what off? This is just a fake date, Tony told you that, right? I mean… You lad—“

But before he can conclude what, without any doubt, would have been a very disastrous sentence, Tony’s elbow digs deeply into Steve’s side, making him shut up at once as his eyes turn to him.

“Steve, I don’t think that’s what Jessica was referring to…”

“Yeah, I meant it like reaching dessert without someone trying to kill us, that sort of thing…”

“… Oh.” It’s all Steve says in response, feeling quite dull right now, having weird flashbacks to the faraway time before he became Captain America when this kind of embarrassment was an ordinary event in his life. He doesn’t exactly know why this stuff is so damn hard for him, and wonders why Tony’s influence is not having a better effect. If anything, it seems to be making things _harder_ somehow, although he can’t possibly comprehend the reason behind it.

“Hey, it’s Friday, hopefully evil guys will want to just stay home and have a drink instead.” he chimes in, and now his arm is resting on the head of Steve’s chair, in what he hopes to be a soothing gesture. “Anyway. This is a double date, ladies, let’s try and keep our work out of it, shall we? From this moment on, we’re just four regular people enjoying each other’s company and food, wishing to get laid later on.”

“Cheers to that…” echoes Carol, nodding, and Steve is glad he isn’t taking a sip of any sort of liquid right now because he’s quite sure he would have ended up spilling it out of his mouth and all over the table.

 ∞

They order a sharing platter for four, mostly because, as it turns out, Steve has never been to a ‘sushi only’ kind of restaurant, and he has no idea what 99% of the items are (it becomes quickly clear as he leans over to Tony and asks the explanation of three different kinds in less than a minute). The conversation, much to both Carol and his surprise, moves to baseball, and for the first time since they’ve entered the place, Steve seems to relax and let himself go as he begins discussing the latest Yankees game with Jessica, who is also a fan. As seeing his companion more at ease, Tony lets a small sigh of relief go, winking at Carol, who smiles back at him as if they were sharing a secret. Unusual for him, he decides to stay quiet and just throws discreet glances to Steve every now and then, taking sips out of his iced almond matcha latte to give the other the time to calm his nerves down before he moves to the ‘dating’ part of the evening. He’s decided on their way here that he would avoid any form of physical touch, not in front of their friends anyway, to keep Steve from totally flipping out on him, something that he’s quite positive would happen. Nevertheless, it’s kind of hard for him to do this, as although this is as fake as it can be, his mind keeps reminding him that it’s a date nevertheless, and once that idea is in his mind, his body strives to treat it as such.

His efforts hold up until their food is served. By the way Steve stares at the rice rolls, it seems like he had forgotten for a moment what was coming for him, too absorbed by the discussion about his favorite sport.

“You know, I’d never seen sushi like this.”

“What do you mean?” Jessica asks him, a quite confused smile on her lips as she turns to Carol as to make sure she heard him correctly.

“This up close. It’s kind of amazing how it all… stays together, like, without any packaging.”

Silence follows this revelation. Jessica looks at Carol who looks at Tony who… has to really keep himself in check not to say something extremely sarcastic or stare at Steve in disbelief. _Be good_ , he reminds himself, and after a couple of seconds more, he taps his fingers on the table and smiles widely: “You’re gonna love it. Shall we begin this feast?”

The awkward moment seems to be averted, because there’s a general nod and the sound of chopsticks getting separated one from the other. He can already feel the magic combination of rice and fish melting together in his mouth while his thumb and index fingers are about to close on a nigiri, but before they can, he becomes painfully aware of a new subtle atmosphere of suspension around the table. _Ignore it_ , a voice echoes in his brain, _just ignore it…_ But he can’t. Frustrated, he leans back against the chair and turns to look at Steve, who’s holding the two chopsticks in the palm of his right hand, studying them as they were hiding some deep secret behind their natural appearance.

“You alright there, Steve?”

For the second time tonight, he catches his partner’s face becoming slightly flustered; it would be kind of adorable if it wasn’t also so painful to witness.

“I… am not sure how to use these things, Tony,” the other admits, raising his eyes to meet his, and he can read a tiny amount of desperation which he doesn’t particularly like.

“Here, let me show you…” he offers, picking up his own set again to show it off to his companion. “You just put your middle here and then you move them with the other two fingers. It might take you a bit of practice, so don’t worry, it’s completely normal.”

Steve nods and then proceeds to try, failing each of the first ten times. The eleventh is the charm though, and he smiles victoriously as he succeeds: “What now?”

“Now you just have to trap the piece of sushi in the middle, like this…” he says, and without thinking it over he demonstrates it, picking up the hosomaki and taking it to Steve’s mouth, watching the other as he parts his lips to let the food inside.

“Oh… wow, okay, now I can see what the fuss is all about…” his companion declares, munching away in delight.

Tony smiles at this, and then he freezes for a second as realizing what he’s just done. That was… _weird_. Like, next level _weird_. Did he actually just _feed_ Steve Rogers? With sushi? In front of other people? He can feel two sets of eyes looking curiously at him, so he clears his throat and takes advantage of the moment to quickly take his long anticipated nigiri to his mouth, mostly so he can have the time to formulate a response of sorts.

“See, it’s not that hard, Captain. You can manage from here,” he says eventually, giving him a pat on his shoulder before concentrating on the food in front of him, wondering what the hell did just get into him.

After a few more seconds of stillness, both Carol and Jessica follow Tony’s example, and even Steve, having tried a few times unsuccessfully, eventually manages to bring a roll to his lips, and the tiny squeak of joy that he emits doesn’t go unnoticed to the man sitting next to him, who can’t keep a smile hidden away.

Just as if they were following a rule they had all agreed upon beforehand, nobody speaks a word until the last piece of sushi has disappeared from the plate and they’ve ordered dessert.

“So, Steve, how was it?” Carol asks, leaning her hand on Jessica’s whilst nodding in his direction.

“Oh, I think I’m in love...” he replies, and for once his words couldn’t be more appropriate because the statement is nothing short of reciprocated by all of the others, and Tony can’t help but feeling somewhat proud of him, because Steve Rogers delivering a fully successful line in this kind of environment is not something that many have had the privilege to witness.

“And here I was, thinking I’d be the recipient of that very sentence tonight...” Tony can’t help himself from saying, sighing softly and looking down, a fake, overdone, distraught expression on his face.

“Aw, honey, you might just be...” comes the prompt reply, and Tony can’t believe his own ears _. What did just happen? Have I actually been... Starked?_ He’s quick to blink away his puzzlement, but nevertheless has to take a long sip of water in order to conjure up a proper reply.

“I’m taking it as a promise...” is all that he can manage, however, because for some reason Steve appears to look at him in a somehow new way, and for the first time Tony catches himself noticing just how _blue_ his eyes are, how their shade is so different than his own and how they seem to be staring right deep into his soul now.

He doesn’t know how long this moment lasts – could be a second or maybe a minute, he just can’t tell for sure – but eventually he manages to snap out of it, and clearing his throat, he adds: “Not good, Rogers, it’s just a second date, save that word for like... a month in.”

“Right...” the other replies, taking a sip of his wine, hence restoring the natural balance of the universe.

In front of them, the two women exchange a brief, confused (but also amused) glance, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Tony, tilting his head towards Carol, a question mark flashing into his eyes. But she only shrugs lightly in response, stretching to kiss Jessica’s cheek, and when she talks, it’s like that gesture never happened.

“How’s this dating course going then? Learned anything useful?”

“I’d say so, yeah. As it turns out, I was doing a bunch of stuff _completely_ wrong.” Steve replies, and Tony he’s glad that he doesn’t turn in his direction because right now he’s not actually sure he could handle it, not when his brain is a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Gotta say, I was surprised when Stark told us about this, I mean… No offense, Tony, but you’re about the last person on earth I would go asking for _dating_ advice.”

Jessica underlines that word as to make sure he wouldn’t mistake it, or miss the implication within; and fair, he guesses he deserves it, relationships are definitely not his forte, there’s no need to hide it, but then why exactly he feels like his ears are about to catch fire?

“None taken,” comes the flat reply, along with a tiny smirk, only a second too late. He should add something, possibly a joke or something along those lines, but he can’t, words escaping his control; instead he leans back against the chair, distancing himself from the table and takes yet another long sip of water, and funnily enough he wonders how long till he’ll have to go to pee considering all the liquid he’s been swallowing.

“Well, you can say what you want about Tony, but I really feel he’s been giving me some solid advice.” Steve chimes in, once again coming to his rescue, causing all sets of eyes to focus back on him, Tony’s included, staring at him for a split second before adding, in what later Tony would think of as nothing short of a social suicide: “Like, did you know that you _shouldn’t_ mention the idea of marriage on a first date?”

Caught in the midst of drinking some wine, Jessica ends up spitting some out of her mouth as hearing these words, and as she fights against a fit of cough, Tony narrows his eyes to his companion who gives him the smallest of winks and a smile, leaving him speechless yet _again_.

“You’re joking.” Carol replies, stumped, as she softly pats her girlfriend’s back to give her some relief.

“Hey, that was the custom back in the day…”

“But you’ve been living in the present for _decades_ now, Steve!”

“What can I say, old habits are hard to die…” he glides over, picking up the chopsticks again and moving them one against the other to rehearse.

As to follow a secret code, Tony stands up, announcing that he needs a toilet break, and heads towards the restroom, but it’s not long until a sniff of familiar perfume gets to his nostrils, giving him a heads-up before Carol materializes by his side.

“Sooo… How long has it been going on?”

He knows what she’s talking about – _of course_ he does – but has to pretend that’s not the case, and not just because that’s the way it _has to_ be, but mostly because it doesn’t make any sense, and he can’t risk exposing himself before having the chance of rationalize it.

And so he lies: “Define ‘it’, otherwise ‘ _it’_ is a bit generic…”

“You _know_ what. Cap and Iron Man. I’ve noticed the way you guys have been looking at each other tonight. Wasn’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

He holds a sigh in, shrugs instead, but avoids meeting her glance all the same: “You’re reading too much into it. I’m just helping him out, that’s all. We’re already friends, which helps. Other than that, it’s all in your mind, Danvers. You’re in love and assume everyone else is too.”

“Whatever you say, dude…” Carol replies, eyes staring up to the ceiling, and before she can add anything else Tony stops and leans a hand on her shoulder, a smirk on his face.

“Gentlemen only from this point on,” as they’ve reached the restrooms area.

Only once he’s safe inside one of the cubicles he lets a deep sigh go as leaning against the door, Carol’s words still echoing in his brain.

 ∞

What’s left of the dinner goes by without any further incidents – Tony manages to keep his hands mostly in check, with the notable exception of when he slides an arm on top of Steve’s chair, and his partner ends up leaning back and _not_ pulling away as their bodies come in contact – and after exchanging a few pleasantries outside the restaurant, Carol and Jessica take their leave amidst some conspicuous giggling and winking which Tony hopes the other won’t understand the nature of.

“Do you want to… uh, walk back home?” Steve asks once they’re alone, and by the tone of his voice, he’s glad to notice his prayer didn’t go unanswered.

“Sure, why not?” he replies with a small smirk, nodding and starting to walk quietly. The evening is slightly colder than the last time, and when he looks up at the sky, he notices dark, heavy clouds above them, threatening rain. “I hope it won’t start until we’re back…” he mutters, mostly to himself, not wanting his clothes to get wet – he _hates_ it when that happens.

“Pros of having a buzz cut, Tony. Don’t have to worry about your hair.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t my concern…” he snickers, but avoids telling the real reason out loud, because he knows the other wouldn’t get it. _Clothes are clothes_ , he can picture him saying.

And maybe Steve knows that’s not what he meant, because he doesn’t enquire any further, although can’t keep an amused smile out of his face. They walk in silence for a while, side by side, and Tony gets a little lost into his thoughts as looking at the Christmas decorations already up and shining in the streets, although it’s merely the second of December and there are so many catastrophes that could happen before the 25th, maybe tearing the own fabric of reality apart, rendering the human concept of time completely useless.

“Do you ever wonder—“

“So, how did I—“

They end up talking at the same exact time, nothing more than a coincidence really, but it makes them chuckle because it’s never happened before, and isn’t that a sign of a deep connection with someone?

“You go first…” Tony encourages him, not wanting to put a dark twist to the evening – it’d be really unnecessary and uncalled for, and it would probably prompt all kinds of questions from Steve, ones he doesn’t have the answers for, although he surely wishes he did.

“Nothing, I just wanted to know how did I score today,” the other shrugs, and then, as catching his interrogative glance: “You know. The scale. Zero to ten?”

Of course. He remembers now.

“Well… It works a bit different from the first date, but I’d give you a solid… 6 ½.”

“Oh, come _on_. Only 6 ½? That’s unfair…”

“I had to _feed_ you, Steve. _Literally_.” Tony replies, trying to keep a straight face, but he can’t deny that he’s enjoying this, especially because the other is complaining, and he _never does_. It’s like he’s discovering a whole new side of him, after all these years. It’s surprising and nice.

“Yeah, but to my defense, I never had sushi before and I’m sorry, but isn’t that on _you_? Theoretically, _you_ asked _me_ out.”

Ouch. That hit home. Because of course, he’s right. Which makes it harder to admit. He doesn’t like to lose an argument, _especially_ to him.

“Look at you, arguing back to me. I have to say, I’m impressed. Fine, I’ll give you 7 then, but only as a… personal favor.”

“Why, thank you, Tony, that means a lot to me…”

“Cut it out, Rogers, you’re killing me,” he protests, but it’s a farce because he’s actually very much relishing this, and has to remind himself that this is _not_ , in fact, a date. No matter what Carol thinks she knows. It just can’t be happening. Nope _. Right?_

As he wonders what the hell is going on between the two of them – and whether he actually wants it to _stop_ – a couple of drops of rain fall on his nose; he looks up, sighing in disappointment, already figuring they’re gonna get completely drenched by the time they make it back home.

“What exactly is your problem with rain, Tony?”

“If you’ve gotta know, I _hate_ getting my clothes wet. It’s gonna seem irrelevant to you, but they’re designer’s and dirty water ruins the fabric. Now you can go ahead and laugh.”

But that’s not what Steve does. Instead, he stops, takes his shoes off and nods at him: “C’mon, let’s make a run for it.”

_I’m sorry, what?_

“You’re joking.”

“I’m serious. Maybe if we are fast enough we’ll get back before it’s too late.”

He has tons of objections to this plan. One, he’s not a person who runs. Two, jogging in chinos? Highly unadvisable. Plus, sweat? That’s disgusting, and not much better than polluted water for his clothes. But just as he’s getting ready to put these thoughts into a sentence that the other can actually relate to, Steve starts sprinting, leaving him no other choice than to follow him, albeit amongst grunts of protest.

 ∞

They arrive at destination about seven minutes later, decisively earlier than if they had kept on walking, although that doesn’t mean the rain doesn’t get them anyway, albeit only marginally.

“I won…” Steve chuckles as reaching the entrance, hands on his hips as waiting for Tony, who gets there just a few moments afterwards.

“Yeah, no shit, you started running while I was still taking my shoes off. That ain’t fair, Rogers.” he answers, slightly short of breath, throwing his head back to try and regain some.

Steve giggles again, but stays silent now and just throws an amused glance over at him; Tony catches a glimpse of it, and maybe it’s the rain, maybe because he’s tired and there’s been a lot of fighting lately; or maybe because it’s December and the year is almost over, so why not risking it all, leaving the consequences to later? The real reason doesn’t matter in the end, because what Tony ends up doing the moment his breathing goes back to a somewhat normal pace is closing the short distance between them and kissing Steve softly, eyes closed, ignoring the shivers down his spine which may be happening because of the cold rain or out of the raw emotion that has pushed him to do such sudden gesture, so unexpectedly that Steve doesn’t pull away or even flinch, staying there as if he was frozen all over again.


	3. When Tony Met Steve...

Tony doesn’t talk, because that’s not what he does when feelings are involved. Especially when they’re about _him_. Instead, he shoves them deep down and avoids them _completely_ , or at least until something tragic and big happens (usually one of them dies). Unfortunately for him, Steve doesn’t quite work the same way, nor shares his belief. If anything, he wants to _talk things through_. Ugh. Tony can’t imagine anything _worse_ , and that’s why, having basically run away after that impromptu kiss two nights ago, he’s literally locked himself into his lab and has been there ever since, siege protocol activated, dark blinds pulled all the way down to shield it from outsiders’ looks, surviving on a diet of black coffee and rice cakes. He would go on like this for a couple of weeks at least, except of course Steve has other plans in mind.

It’s late at night and he’s about to pass out with his head on the desk – same as it’s happened on both previous days – when a prolonged and low beep awakens him all of a sudden. Eyes still heavy with tiredness, he grunts and yawns at the same time as he rubs them, spinning around in his chair before stopping abruptly as seeing what is actually happening.

“How the hell…” he starts, but before he can complete his rhetoric question, the door slides open and Steve walks inside, a little awkwardly but determined nevertheless.

“Hey, Tony.”

“How did you manage to get in?” he asks in reply, because forget about the kiss, he _has to know_. The lab is impenetrable, or at least he thought it was. Especially whilst in siege mode. But if someone like _Steve_ has managed, then he’ll have to revise the whole system, and that could take _days_. It’s kind of in the middle of another project now, and he hates having to leave something hanging when he’s in the midst of something infinitely more exciting.

“Nat helped.”

_Of course she did_. He yawns again, weirdly feeling the urge to hide his face away while doing it, and spins on the chair, giving the other his back. He’s tired and should really make it upstairs to sleep in a proper bed, but the thought of leaving the chair and actually standing up is even more exhausting.

“You could have just knocked…”

“I _tried_. Lots of times. You never even answered. For all we knew you could have been dead.”

He really wishes he had been, at least wouldn’t have to endure this conversation now. But he refrains from saying that out loud. He knows the other doesn’t quite enjoy this kind of sarcasm.

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Tony, we should t—“

“No. No we don’t.” Tony cuts him off, shaking his head and smirking tiredly, his eyes on the project lying on his desk. “I just got caught up in the moment and forgot for a second it was you, alright? No need to turn it into a big deal. It won’t happen again.”

_But what if I wanted it to?_ , Steve wonders to himself, although he doesn’t dare saying it out loud. Instead he stays there, silent, and Tony wishes he would leave already but he doesn’t, it’s like he’s paralyzed, so he just ignores him (or _tries to_ ), takes a pen from his desk, begins scribbling some equations on a piece of paper, mostly to distract himself.

“Do you… want to go on another fake date? I feel a last one is all I need, just to… you know, apply your teachings to practice and see if I got them right. I promise I’ll do my best. What do you say?”

_No_ , that’s what he should answer, along with a list of reasons as to why that’s about the stupidest idea he’s ever heard the other coming up with. _No because I was lying when I said the kiss wasn’t intentional, even though I didn’t actually think over it twice before leaning over, but once I was back into my room by myself, I couldn’t lie anymore and pretend it didn’t feel nice, or natural, or even the right thing to do in that precise moment. And since_ that’s true _, then going on another date – fake or not it doesn’t really matter at this point – would be a total disaster and definitely not advisable, so…_

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Tony hears himself replying instead, because let’s be honest, despite having a QI of 250, when it comes down to take smart, real life decisions… that’s definitely _not_ his area of expertise, see just how many of his most notable ideas turned out in global catastrophes merely because he hadn’t weighted in common sense factors.

“… Oh. Well, that’s great, thanks, Tony,” the other mumbles, clearly not expecting – or even _hoping for_ – a positive response, “Are you free tomorrow evening? Let’s do 7?”

“I’m free, yes.”

“Great, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Steve. Good night.”

It’s only a few minutes later than Tony lets a deep sigh go, once he’s sure he’s completely alone again.

_I can keep my cool for one more date, sure, what’s the biggie?,_ he thinks, although he knows very well he’s only fooling himself.

 ∞

His rational side has been trying for almost twenty-four hours now to come up with good enough reasons to call the date off, but nothing convincing enough to actually stick. So here he is, at 7:05pm, making his way down to the lobby, expecting to find Steve already there, waiting.

“Sorry I’m late...” he offers as soon as the elevator doors open, but much to his surprise there’s nobody there, except for the holographic projection of one of his I.A., serving as the welcoming party for the Tower.

_Uh. Maybe he has indeed learn something...,_ he thinks to himself as sitting down on the cushioned pillows. But when the whole of ten minutes go by, he starts wondering whether the other has got cold feet, or just plain forgot about this (although he can’t bring himself to actually _believe_ the latter possibility, he’s pretty sure Steve has _never_ forgot anything in the whole time he’s known him). He picks up his phone, starts rummaging through the apps until he finds the prototype of one he’s been working on, some sort of tracking signal for the active members of the team, remembering how the other had volunteered to try it out. But just as he’s launching it, a voice prompts him to lift up his glance from the phone.

“Hey, sorry for the delay, I definitely underestimated just how _hard_ would be to find the ones I was looking for on a Friday night...”

“What are you t—“ Tony starts, but stops the moment his eyes discover the answer to his question. Steve is holding flowers. Roses, to be precise. And not just any kind. They’re the Kazanlashka Rosa variety. Aka, what’s widely recognized as Bulgaria’s national flower. He’s stunned. “... oh.”

“Here. I thought you’d like them.” Steve replies awkwardly, offering the bouquet to Tony, who takes it with a genuine smile on his face. _Aren’t you just full of surprises..._ , he thinks to himself, standing up and taking the flowers from the other’s hands, sniffing them and closing his eyes to avoid a slight fluster from conquering his cheeks.

“I... uh, thank you, Steve, they’re lovely,” he mumbles, saying his name on purpose as to remind himself just whom exactly he’s talking to. And still, that can’t keep him from leaning in to leave a kiss on the other’s cheek, although he should have really avoided doing that. _Didn’t want to be rude_ , he’d remark later to himself. “I’ll leave them here, remind me to get them when we’re back, okay?” he then says, going around the front desk and placing them on the counter, putting in a note in the A.I. system as a second memo. The evening has just begun and he’s already feeling all of his good purposes fading away.

 ∞

But if he thought the flowers were going to be the only surprise of the evening he was solely mistaken. As it turns out, Steve indeed took the time to make an actual _reservation_ at a restaurant of his choice – which, unsurprisingly, it’s a more refined version of a traditional diner, although he suspects that’s mostly out of respect for his rather sophisticated standards, Steve looking at it like some sort of compromise between the two of them.

“Hi, I booked at table, should be under Rogers…” he says once they get to the restaurant, and Tony has to admit that it does have a nice ring to it, he doesn’t even quite understand _why_ , exactly. Maybe because he’s the one who usually has to do this, whether it’s for dates of more or less formal meetings with the Avengers or other superhero groups, so it’s nice to have a change of pace for once. Or maybe because it’s _him_ in particular – slightly awkward Steve Rogers despite having a body like an armor and the ability to send you KO with just a fist if he only wanted to – and seeing him actually managing to behave like an ordinary, modern man fills his heart with a sense of proudness he didn’t know he had in him.

And then Steve does it again. And again. All throughout the dinner, he surprises Tony beyond his wildest expectations, doing just about _everything_ right, not once the latter has to step in to correct him, to the point that this begins to look more and more like an actual date, and not a pretending one. As this happens, the thought completely evades Tony’s mind, except for when Steve goes taking his hand into his with such casualness and spontaneity that he actually needs to remind himself he is not, in fact, being courted. _Snap out of it, you idiot,_ he reprehends himself, although he cannot keep an honest smile from popping up on his lips, and he sighs softly, part of him really wishing someone would do this for real with him, because when was the last time it happened? He can’t remember, which probably means the answer is _never_. And that’s because people tend to be – consciously or not – intimidated by his person, creating this _image_ of him in their mind of someone who’s really hard to impress or to be around simply because he’s _on another level_. But although he is officially a superhero _and_ a classified genius, and despite really being arrogant _at times_ , at the deep core of who he is there are ordinary wishes and desires: happiness, stability, feeling that his actions bring along an important change and have indeed a positive effect on the world, leaving it better than how he found it. Nobody has ever understood that, not really, but right here, right now? He kind of believes Steve, in fact, _would_ , and it’s so crazy to imagine that this is the very first time he’s actually realizing this, despite knowing the man for a ridiculous amount of years.

“What? Did I say something funny?” Steve stops halfway through a sentence, tilting his head in a gesture so cute and soft that Tony has a hard time trying to hide his feelings.

“Nah, I was just…” he begins, but then stops and shakes his head, realizing he doesn’t know how to put those sentiments into spoken words. “Never mind, it was just a random thought. Please, go ahead, it was fascinating.”

Whatever it is that Steve was telling him about anyway.

 ∞

Not to sound cliché, or corny, or cheesy, or all of them put together, but this is by far the finest date he’s ever had, even if it’s a fake one. And yes, _of course_ it helps that they’ve known each other for years, and they’re close friends – by the way, never believe someone who says friends can’t become lovers, because that’s just bullshit – but that’s not all there is to it. As it turns out, when Steve is not preoccupied with impressing himself, when he lets his guard down to live in the moment, he can be so much fun to be around. He makes Tony laugh without even having to _try_ , and Tony loves him for that. Yes, _loves_ , because that’s a word that can be used when talking about your friends too, you know? You can actually _love_ your friends without wanting to _sleep_ with them, not _necessarily_ at least, or marrying them or do whatever it is that people in long term relationships do, he’s never quite understood that part.

“Do you want to walk home?” Steve asks him once they’re done with their dinner – yes, they split the bill as if this was an actual date, and what about it? – although is snowing and it’s cold and they’d be better off calling an Uber.

“You know it, Cap,” he replies with a smile, before he adds, giggling: “No running this time, though. I think I’m so full I might collapse if I attempt anything like that after dinner once more.”

“You just don’t want to risk _losing_ again.”

“Suuure, whatever you say, Rogers…”

They chuckle at the same time, and Tony nods to him while he starts walking – almost waltzing, actually – looking up at the snowflakes and feeling a weird sense of festiveness springing from the inside, for the first time in _decades_. Steve can’t help but smiling as witnessing this, he can’t believe they’ve gone through a whole dinner just the two of them without having a political discussion of sorts or getting into an argument over the Avengers and which line to keep regarding some world event, as it’s usually the case whenever they both get hungry whilst in the middle of a meeting and decide to take a break to fill their stomachs. Tonight was different, it _felt_ different, and it doesn’t take an expert in dating or even love to know that. It’s just so crystal clear that you can’t dismiss it out of hand just because it makes no sense at all. Tony is his best friend, for better or worse they’ve had each other’s backs for all these years, but this has nothing to do with that. This is something else entirely, something that he assumes could be what a successful date looks like, although he can’t possibly be sure. And he can’t keep a giggle from coming out as realizing that the person whom he’d ask about this is indeed the same one who’s currently dancing to an inaudible music in front of his very eyes.

“What?” Tony smirks as hearing him, spinning on his heels to look back, “Is it my little waltz? It’s almost Christmas, I’m trying to get into the spirit…”

“No, it’s not that, although it does make for quite a nice show…” Steve shakes his head, big smile on his lips, “I was just wondering about something, and then I thought you’d be the best person to ask. Which is funny because, it kind of involves _you_.”

“Well, in your defense, I’m the best person to ask an awful lot of questions, being smart _and_ handsome, so…” he smirks at him as coming to a stop, letting the other man catch up before talking again: “C’mon, go ahead. No judgement passed, nothing off topic. Shoot.”

Steve knows that he shouldn’t, no matter what, because yeah, Tony jokes around a lot but can also be dreadfully serious at times, and he doesn’t want to risk spoiling this evening just because he’s not versed enough in dating to know how to read a situation. But if he could read Steve’s mind, he would tell him there’s no way you can ever be one hundred percent sure of something like this, no matter how experienced you are.

“So?” he solicits, looking at him even if the other’s stare is fixed on the pavement in an attempt to make up his mind _without_ Tony’s eyes reading into his mind as they often seem to.

“I was wondering whether you’d classify this as a ‘successful date’ or not…” Steve eventually blurts out, trying to keep the question somewhat casual by using a boring word and adding a little shrug.

But Tony isn’t easy to fool, _especially_ when the truth appears to be so self-evident that it’s kind of impossible to ignore. For the first time, an incredible thought flashes out in his mind: could Steve be feeling the same way he is? Furthermore, would he consider this to be an _actual_ date and not just a fake one, as Tony is willing to do? And if so, was this already his intention yesterday, when he broke into his lab and asked him out? He is _dying_ to ask Steve all of these questions, but because he knows the other all too well, he’s aware that he _can’t_. So, as per usual, he opts for his favorite strategy whenever he’s unable to provide an answer.

“Hm. What do _you_ think?”

“I… guess…? I mean…” he pauses, bites his lower lip and sighs softly before finally meeting Tony’s eyes, waiting for him. “I had a… really nice time, Tony. Thanks for agreeing to it.”

Steve has said these last words somewhat slower, and if Tony didn’t know any better, he would have thought it was because he was back at being his usual awkward self, but that’s not it. He could be wrong – and he probably _is_ – but still doesn’t think he is, because there’s a subtext out in the open which is kind of hard to ignore.

Tony knows what he would do if this was a normal circumstance: take the person’s hands in his, smile gently to them, wait a few seconds for them to be comfortable and able to move away or stop him if they wanted to, and then, if they stay in their position, lean in and kiss them slowly and gently, no tongue involved – that’s for a later time.

“No problem…” he replies, and now it’s his turn to look down, not at the pavement but at the other’s hands, because he wants so desperately to treat this as if it _was_ a proper date, and to follow his usual plan, but before he can make his first move, his rational side takes over, shortcutting his brain and making him go on talking instead: “I would consider this a successful date, Steve, yes,” he hears himself replying, and god, how much he hates the sound of his own voice right now.

Steve smiles, and maybe he’s about to say something but before he can, a long shiver runs along Tony’s whole body, awakening from the kind of catalepsy he had fallen into.

“Woah, are you that cold? Here, take my coat, I don’t really need it, it was mostly just to…” Steve stops just in time, as the next few words bursting out of his mouth would have been ‘impress you’, and he’s not that confident, not with Tony anyway.

“It’s fine, really, don’t…” he blandly protests, but before he can finish his sentence Steve’s coat is already around his shoulders, and he’s offering Tony his bent arm.

“Walk you home, Mr. Stark?”

“When you ask me like that…” he replies, biting his tongue to not add anything more incriminating because honestly, if Steve keeps at it he’s going to lose every bit of self-control he has in his body. Which is not a lot to begin with, admittedly. He links arms with him, ignoring the small pirouette his stomach does at this, and they start walking again, more slowly despite the snow falling more intense within every minute.

Tony is stumped, doesn’t know exactly what to say or do, although he has a very precise idea about what he would _love_ to. He stays silent, to avoid irreparable damage, and so does Steve, never one to initiate a conversation when it’s not absolutely necessary – or when he’s not exactly sure that opening his mouth is the best solution.

“Steve…” he gives in after about five minutes, because although the silence is not uncomfortable or awkward, he can sense there’s a cloud of unsaid words hoovering over them and now that he’s aware of it he can’t just ignore it. Plus, walking like this is making it harder to lie to himself any further.

“Yes?”

“…” he sighs quietly, and tries to remember when it was the last time that someone had turned him into such a big emotional mess. Oh yeah, it was Steve _again_ , although he was, y’know, dead at that point, and he was crying at his bedside. The memory makes him shiver again, but this time the cold has nothing to do with it. “Thanks for the jacket.”

_Oh_. Steve had been holding his breath since hearing Tony call his name, part of him expecting some sort of confession, part of him dreading a different kind of talk. He’s been in love before, of course he has, and yet this feels like nothing he’s ever experienced already, whatever _this_ is (he has no idea at this point). He can’t point down the reasons as to why, exactly, but it’s a feeling that originates from his lower stomach and goes all the way up to his throat, sometimes making it hard to breathe properly. Maybe because it goes beyond simple attraction, it’s like their brainwaves are perfectly aligned right now, and when they vibrate, they produce a unique, unison sound. If he was sure that Tony was going to appreciate this analogy, he surely would have said it out loud, although he’s not totally convinced he would have managed to do so maintaining eye contact throughout – not that it matters. But he has no idea whether this would be the case, so he just nods whilst swallowing awaythose words, looking ahead as the snow starts covering the streets: “Sure, no problem.”

Neither of them thinks it wise to try and start talking again, so they remain silent for the rest of their walk home, around ten minutes ( _This has got to be some kind of record for me_ , Tony thinks, but doesn’t share the thought out loud, he doesn’t want to risk the other misinterpreting it). Once they’re inside the lobby, he takes the other’s coat off his shoulders and hands it back to him with a thank you smile, then bends over the reception desk to grab the flowers again and take them upstairs.

“These really are beautiful, Cap…” he says when he lands back on his feet, admiring them again.

“Glad you like them…” the other replies, pausing for a second before adding: “Hey, look what I’ve just found…”

“What is it?” he asks, turning around to look at him, but as he does, he finds Steve’s face mere inches away from his own, and before he can even formulate a question, the other’s lips capture his with such willingness that Tony doesn’t even _think_ of refusing them. He closes his eyes, blindly puts the flowers down on the counter so he can wrap his hands around Steve’s neck, keeping him close as if afraid he could just disappear under his nose. He returns the kiss, because he could never refuse, but when Steve tries again he lowers his forehead on the tip of the other’s nose, sighing softly and wishing he could just _stop thinking_ , but unfortunately he cannot.

“Steve…” he whispers – now even just saying his name gives him goosebumps, and how significant is that? – shaking his head lightly whilst struggling to find the courage to say the words he _needs_ to say, against the ones he _wants_ to. “We can’t do this. It’ll end up in a disaster. You _know_ that…”

“I _don’t_ , Tony. And neither do you, because we’ve never done this,” the other replies, and there’s an edge in his voice that he believes he has never heard before. He can feel his glance on him so he opens his eyes to find his, almost immediately, staring at him as if it was the first time Steve was actually _seeing_ Tony, and although he really shouldn’t – the rational part of his brain is by now _yelling_ at him to stop – he can’t help but leaning in for yet another kiss, less chaste this time, tongue slipping inside Steve’s mouth to caress his, gently yet hungrily. He parts only once he’s completely out of breath, taking a step back as to remind the other that he doesn’t have the same super soldier stamina, and it’s only now that realizes what Steve has been holding for all this time above their heads: a mistletoe.

“That must be the cheesiest thing ever, Cap…” he giggles softly, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest, trying to make himself look more hardcore than he actually is, because he can’t deny that’s actually a very cute gesture coming from him. Especially considering that he probably… “Wait a second. Did you actually _find_ that?” he asks, frowning a bit but amused nevertheless.

Steve looks briefly up as to find something inspiring to say or to remember the lines of a poem he wants to recite, but he’s only pretending and he’s not very good at hiding – nor he particularly _wants to_ – so eventually he just shakes his head and admits the truth: “Got it at the flower shop, along with the roses. I thought…” he stops when he realizes he’s giving too much away.

But Tony is not about to let that go, and finishes the sentence in his place: “It was your plan all along, wasn’t it? This was indeed a date, you wanted it to be… Wow, I have to say, I _am_ impressed, you almost got away with it.”

He chuckles lightly, and it’s a contagious sound because Steve joins in, a bit flustered on his cheeks, not even trying to deny it because he knows when to admit defeat.

“Nothing escapes Tony Stark, uh? And you wonder why I want you to be my partner…”

_Wait, what?_ He’s sure he’s heard him wrong, there’s no other explanation. _He didn’t just… No way. No fucking way. So close._

“And I thought you had taken all of my advices…” he sucks in a deep breath, shaking his head, hands on hips for dramatic effect, once again trying to guess the correct course of action.

“What do you mean?”

“Steve… Dating and being in a relationship with someone… not necessarily the same thing these days. I thought I had made that clear when we talked about… marriage proposal.”

It’s nothing more than a stupid excuse, he’s well aware of it, and he believes Steve does too, but it needed to be said, and he needed to hear it. Going on dates is fun, you let steam off and for a night you feel like an ordinary person. Sleeping next to someone alleviates your loneliness, reminds you why you do what you do, why you sacrifice so much for strangers, for people who don’t always believe in you, who are just as ready to blame you for everything that is wrong in this world. But an actual relationship? That’s another matter entirely. Because you throw feelings into the mix, and before you know it weeks have turned into years to the point that you can’t imagine your life without the other, because that’s an existence you don’t see the point in living, not anymore, not after having known what love truly is… Still it suddenly happens, your partner gets hit as it’s bound to happen in this line of work, and maybe they die between your arms whilst you scream to just hold on, that you can _sort this out_ , although that’s just a lie because you’re not a god, you’re not even a doctor, you can’t stop death when it’s already in front of you. And at that point, what happens?

He shakes his head as to keep these ideas out of his mind but it’s impossible, because he’s given this much more thought than he’d like to admit.

“I _know_ that, Tony. But I’m asking anyway. Because we’re not strangers, and this wasn’t our first date, not even the third. All these years, all of our shouting matches, our fights, our evenings spent discussing strategies with Chinese food in our mouths, all the times we keep coming back to one another… those have been dates too, we just were too cowards to call them as such, too occupied with saving the world to admit we deserve to be happy as everyone else. And the thing is, you _really_ make me happy, Tony, even when I can’t stand the sight of you. Even then, I’m glad you’re in my life because you’ve become a guiding sign for me, believe it or not. And I know this is nothing new to you, I know _it_ because I know _you_ , Tony. So yeah… How would you like to be my partner?”

He’s shocked, and not just because that’s the longest speech he’s ever heard Steve saying, or what it means, or even that he’s said those very words in the first place. Of course, all of this is included, but most of all, it’s because Steve really thinks he, Tony, can make him happy. Actually, he already _does_. That’s what has his heart bouncing like crazy in his chest now, his throat dry, his breath short.

_How can this be happening?_ , he wonders, but of course he already knows the answer to this question, he’s always known it, deep, deep down.

And as Steve keeps his cerulean eyes fixed on him, Tony can’t lie to himself any longer, he _won’t_ , and that’s why he closes the gap between the two of them and slowly nods as he leans in for another kiss, whispering softly on Steve’s lips: “Yes, I would love to be yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely loved all the prompts I received and it was hard to pick one, but then I remembered [this panel](https://imgur.com/a/SpAM5iM) from Hickman's Avengers run and the choice basically made itself (I'm a sucker for his run okay).
> 
> The names for each chapter come from three of my favorite romantic comedy filmsof all times: [La Règle Du Jeu](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0031885/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1), [Metti, Una Sera A Cena](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0064660/?ref_=nv_sr_2) and [When Harry Met Sally](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098635/?ref_=nv_sr_1).
> 
> I'm now taking commissions! So if you like my style and would like to request a fic, feel free to drop me a dm or buy me a ko-fi [here](https://ko-fi.com/shadowolf19), and I'll get to it asap :)
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://shadowolf19.tumblr.com) or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Shadowolf19) if you want to chat!


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